Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Do you see the orange shirt? Not the man directing flight traffic, the one just beyond the plane stepping onto the gang-plank? That's me. San Antonio's temperature that day was 110 degree F. As such, the flight was beyond bumpy, and I couldn't wait to step onto solid ground.

I had been so worried about Bri's bag, which did fine, that I didn't stop to consider that I would get really sick and vomit on her head, which almost happened. The nice ladies across the aisle were preparing to snatch her off my lap when they saw me start to gag.

When we boarded, the man next to me (on the very last and windowless seat to which I was assigned) took one look at Bridgette, inhaled deeply, turned to the flight attendant and said, "How long is this flight?" It was not a mere question. It was said in a plaintive/annoyed voice. Little did he know I would be a bigger danger than the baby... who didn't even cry.

Mama Hoose arrived in San Antonio 1/2 hour before me and was there to greet me at the gate. So unusual in this ultra-secure nation we've created! It was great to see her, and she was very pleased to see us. Despite the smile, I was still feeling very ill in this photo. Bridgette, still awake, was surviving on her last dregs of energy.

She fell asleep in the Hertz-mobile as it shuttled us to our rental pick-up area.

We were all pretty pooped when we got to the hotel. This is Bridgette chilling out. Being cute. It's her specialty.

That evening the Weidmann's picked me up and Dad Weidmann treated us to dinner at The Magic Time Machine. It's a crazy place. Crazy fun.

Besides bringing Mom Weidmann an entire pitcher of Dr. Pepper and putting dry ice in the other drinks, the servers (all in costume) do a lot of yelling, teasing, dancing, sword-fighting, and other tom-foolery. The photos below show the cookie eating contest foisted upon the willing after we were stuffed to near capacity. Whoever ate all the whipped cream and cookie, without using any hands, got a prize. I never saw what the prize was.